


Supernatural Snippets

by sardonicsmiley



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 03:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21154580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sardonicsmiley/pseuds/sardonicsmiley





	1. Supernatural Snippet Number 1

The silence feels like a physical presence in the night, weighing everything down. Overhead the stars are burning bright, the new moon dark. The ground under Dean's feet is wet and cold, from the rain that had fallen earlier in the day. He curls his toes up in the mud, gooseflesh rising across his bare flesh.

He wants to ask one more time if this is what has to happen, if Castiel is sure, if there isn't another way. But those questions have been answered, and this isn't the place for them anyway. The silence out here won't allow for questions. It barely allows for breathing. Dean's jaw is locked up tight, his stomach tense and full of nerves, his heart pounding like a jackhammer.

The crowd around him is silent as well, tired men and women with defiant eyes and hard faces, washed out by the moonlight. They all have their weapons, because even now, even in this, it would be insanity to go defenseless into the dark night. Not with the monsters moving amongst them here at the end of the world.

There's a light touch across Dean's shoulders. He tilts his head back, blinking at Castiel, nodding slightly. Castiel nods back, one side of his mouth curving up just a little bit. He's as naked as Dean, skin covered in nothing but moonlight, and the shadows that dance over his shoulders and down his back.

Then Castiel wraps an arm around Dean's chest, stepping close behind him. Castiel's skin is chilled, his fingertips almost cold where they press against Dean's ribs. Dean shivers, sucking in as deep a breath as he can manage, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Castiel nudges Dean after a moment, and Dean nods, biting his tongue and raising his right hand to shoulder height, his palm to the sky. It takes effort to unclench his fingers, but he manages after a long moment, trying to ignore how his heart is racing, how he can barely breathe.

Dean has no time to feel the knife. Castiel is faster than any human, and the blade is beyond sharp. The warmth of his blood filling up his palm and running down over the sides of his hand is the first thing Dean feels. It's shocking, after the cold of the night.

The pain comes then, a deep burn that makes Dean hiss. It takes everything he has to keep from flinching, to stop himself from applying pressure to the wound, cursing, lashing out at Castiel for causing the injury. Dean stands still, blood running down his forearm, ink black and glittering like diamonds where it catches the starlight.

For just a second Castiel's cheek presses against Dean's shoulder, as he raises a chalice, holding the wooden cup beneath Dean's elbow. The cut was deep, and the cup fills quickly. Dean watches it, unable to even make himself blink, until the chalice is filled to the brim.

Only then does he curl his fingers in to his palm, lowering his hand and turning slowly. Castiel holds the chalice steady, raising it without spilling so much as a drop. Dean holds Castiel's gaze when the angel brings the cup to his lips, drinking deep.

It leaves a smear of blood along Castiel's upper lip, his mouth reddened with Dean's blood. Dean cradles his arm to his chest, and shivers hard.


	2. Supernatural Snippet Number 2

"Listen, it's ineffable, that's the point." Castiel waves a hand in a gesture that is far too broad. Dean snorts, grabbing Castiel's wrist and directly the flailing arm away from his head. Castiel takes it as an opportunity to try to grab onto Dean, expression going serious all of a sudden when he says, "It's—" and there's that hand waving again.

Dean wouldn't have thought that angels could get smashed, but he'd apparently been all kinds of wrong. And this had only taken a few shots of tequila. Dean also wouldn't have thought that if angels could get smashed they'd be grabby, chatty drunks, but he'd been wrong about that one as well.

Castiel is frowning at Dean seriously now, patting at Dean's shoulder with his free hand and going on, "Dean? Are you awake?"

Dean says, "No," just to see what Castiel will do. He's aware that might be slightly cruel, but it's also funny as hell, which he figures should count for something. Especially when Castiel proceeds to scrunch up his face, looking completely baffled before reaching out and attempting to poke Dean in the eye. That considerably decreases the amusement factor of the entire situation, and Dean spends the next few minutes attempting to convince Castiel that yes, he is in fact awake, and yes, he has been listening. Which is half true.

Castiel finally settles, fumbling for Dean's glass of tequila. Dean raises his eyebrows but doesn't protest. Castiel manages to spill most of it down the front of his own shirt anyway, so Dean figures that it won't actually make anything worse.

Besides, there's something deeply amusing about the aghast expression that crosses Castiel's face when he realizes that the front of his shirt is soaked through with booze. The angel fumbles for his buttons, and then gives up, flashing Dean a mournful look.

Dean raises his eyebrows and says, "Forget it. You and your ineffable plan can figure it out on your own."

"It's not my plan," it's the first time Dean's ever heard Castiel sound whiny. Dean rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Probably it was a mistake to get Castiel back on the subject of God's plan, because now the angel is showing every indication of going on another long spiel about blah blah, blah blah blah.

Dean sighs, and hefts the tequila bottle again. Castiel might be drunk enough to talk about this, but Dean certainly isn't. Yet, anyway.


End file.
